The Thrill of Victory
By Steve Gahagen
A few years ago, I attended one of the most epic football games in the University of Minnesota’s history—arguably their biggest game in decades. It was a late morning showdown between the #13-ranked Gophers and the #5-ranked Penn State Nittany Lions. Both teams entered the game undefeated at 8–0—something that hadn’t happened in a Big Ten matchup in forty years.
Penn State, with its powerhouse football pedigree, was the clear favorite over Minnesota’s long-struggling program. Honestly, had the game ended by halftime in Penn State’s favor, no one would’ve been shocked.
But that’s not what happened.
The Gophers struck early, and what followed was a high-octane, back-and-forth battle. Minnesota held the lead into the final minutes, with 51,000 emotionally charged fans packed into a sold-out stadium. It was loud. Electric. Unforgettable.
Then, with less than two minutes to go, Penn State was driving. They were within striking distance of taking the lead. I could feel it: we were on the edge of either unthinkable joy or heartbreaking defeat. There was no middle ground. The whole game—and everyone in that stadium—had come down to this moment.
Penn State completed a pass down to the Minnesota two-yard line with just over a minute left. My heart sank. The worst seemed inevitable. But then—a yellow flag fluttered to the field near the ten-yard line. Offensive pass interference. The ball was moved back to the twenty-five.
On what was essentially third and goal, the Penn State quarterback fired a pass into the end zone to a seemingly open receiver. But a Gopher defender jumped the route, made a diving interception, and sealed the game.
The crowd erupted.
After a couple of kneel-downs, the field was flooded with students. Strangers hugged, high-fived, and screamed in joy. The emotion was overwhelming. I’ve rarely seen social barriers break down so completely. Try high-fiving strangers on the street and someone might call security. But not here. Not that day.
That’s the magic of moments like this. I’ve experienced both sides—the agony of missed kicks in subzero temps and the ecstasy of the Minneapolis Miracle. Sports give us a front-row seat to moments where everything is on the line. We fear those moments. And we crave them.
In life, it’s no different. We are simultaneously drawn to and afraid of these defining moments—the ones where we’ve invested too much to turn back. Where comfort is no longer an option. Where it’s going to be very good or very bad.
We live in a culture that nudges us toward safety and control. But the truth is, it’s the high-stakes moments that define us—even when things don’t turn out the way we hoped.
Because in those moments, we are all in. And that’s where life becomes real.
Questions to Consider:
What are a few defining moments in your life or work in which you were so vested, that the outcome was going to be really good or really bad?
Where are you investing your talents to create epic moments/outcomes for yourself or others?
What holds people back from being all in?
Why are these the best of moments no matter the outcome?